Roots to Branches
by mmmslash
Summary: Russell and Ed contemplate their relationship
1. Chapter 1

Ed breathed a heavy sigh as he flopped a book shut, dust puffing off its cover and closing with a loud thud.

"Shhh!" Russell hissed with a frown.

"What?"

"Can't you be quiet? We're reading."

Ed glanced around the table at Russell and their brothers. The two youngest boys also looked disturbed, though Al was pretty good at hiding it. Maybe Ed _had_ been fidgeting too much.

"Okay, okay. I'll be quiet."

Russell turned back to his book with a satisfied smirk.

Ed sighed again, this time more quietly and glanced around the empty library. The light was far too dim, there in the farthest corner, to be proper light for reading, but it had the comforting feel of reading at home in front of the fire place. Ed missed Rizenbol and he missed reading in his own chair and in front of his own fireplace. He missed his family. But, glancing around at the bowed heads and their focused concentration, he felt that this was a nice substitute.

The last thing he felt like doing, however, was joining in on the reading. He was antsy, swinging his legs like a child, unencumbered by bothersome adult-length legs that could brush feet against floor. He pushed his sleeves up. He pulled them back down. He re-braided his hair. And he stared.

He stared at the boys who filled out the table for four. Russell at his side, the two younger boys sitting across from their respective brothers. Ed drummed his fingers on his metal arm and made funny noises with his lips. When Russell's head rose from its studious position, his too-long bangs brushing the bridge of his nose as he turned an annoyed glare on Ed, the older boy ceased his puffing and tapping and rocking in his chair. Instead, he expelled an annoyed grunt.

"Edward!" Russell snapped, then calmed. "Please...this is important."...

Ed rolled his eyes when Russell looked back down. He followed the younger boy's stare, hoping for something interesting. Oh. Just plant stuff. Far too boring for him to care. What could you do with plants, anyway? Good-for-nothing weak organisms dependent on human care to thrive. And he'd seen the Tringham boys fight. Plants were not very useful in battle either.

Yet, he couldn't look away from Russell's notes. The gentle sweeping ink marks that filled the delicate arrays were in stark contrast to the hard, geometric designs in Ed's notes. Creeping down the page, thick black tendrils vined themselves around the curved lines traversing the circle. They looked like roots, of a tree maybe. Thick and long, trailing the diameter of the array, connected at lines that Ed supposed were mimics of branches. A delicate invention of continuity and infinity. Roots to branches and branches back to roots. Ed smiled softly in the dim light.

This was the graphic illustration of the difference between the two boys. Russell's goals consisted of a circular pattern, much like his arrays, much like the plants in which he could lose himself for hours. A constant drive to increase their knowledge, only to reapply that knowledge to knew problems which would lead to greater knowledge. In short, the Tringham brothers sought after no hard goal. They researched and experimented. And they would never stop researching and experimenting because there would always be new things to learn.

Ed, on the other hand, had had a simple goal. Not so simple to achieve - though he had - but simple in structure. He had only wanted to return his brother's body, to regain what had been taken from them. This goal had been met. And now, after hitting a very concrete, tangible wall, the Elric brother's had to seek out a new path. It would have been very easy to fall into plant research with Russell, very easy to spend days locked away in the greenhouse, sitting close to his lover as they stared into microscopes and colorful elixirs. But plants weren't Ed's thing.

Ed knew little about the workings of Russell's research, and he knew even less about the workings of their relationship, but it didn't really matter to them. They'd fallen into their routines together so seamlessly. Sort of like the roots and branches of Russell's array. The plant alchemist kept him grounded while Ed had strived and worked for his goals. Russell patiently waited for him to return from every mission and even waited the two years it took for him to return from the gate. Along with Al and Fletcher, Russell hadn't given up hope of Ed's return. He had accepted the homecoming of the older alchemist with feverish embraces and warm, moist kisses, and too many tears. Those had been their first together.

Nothing had felt more right. When he had returned to the doorstep the four of them would eventually shared in Rizembol, nothing seemed out of place with such a passionate greeting from the boy who had previously been only a grudging friend. Ed had tried to tell himself that he hadn't really heard Russell scream "Come back alive" when he'd descended into the underground city. But it was one of the memories that sustained him while he was gone.

It seemed that the Tringham boys hadn't just sustained him, but his brother as well. They had helped keep the memory of Ed alive within Al during the separation. They had helped him remember things that the gate had stolen from him. They'd put in a small vegetable garden at their home in Rizembol, as much for sustenance as for playful experimentation. It had surprised Ed upon his homecoming to see tilled earth behind a newly erected home, one very near the ashen ruins of their old dwelling, but not in the same place exactly. In reverence, Ed thought.

Maybe it was Al's way of not yet moving on from their memories altogether. Maybe if he kept the ruined home site where it was, he wouldn't be closing the door on their journey, he wouldn't be admitting that it was over, that Ed wouldn't be coming back. But he had come back. He had come back to Al and to Russell and to Fletcher. He had come back to a new home and to Winry and Pinako and Den. And he had come back to that thriving, green garden.

He remembered the first time Russell had taken him out there. They had knelt in the soil while the younger boy explained the workings, both alchemical and biological, of the green shoots. He had gently pulled up a carrot plant, brushed the dirt off the thick orange root ("yes, the _root_," he had ensured Ed), and placed it in a collection basket. Ed had assumed that the garden was the Tringhams' thing, not something in which he would ever be expected to participate.

He had been wrong. With no pressing quest forcing him away from home, what with Al being pliant flesh once again, he sat nervously at home. He had been sitting in a chair, anxiously bouncing his knee up and down, staring out the window with one eye, the other fixed firmly on the telephone that hadn't rung since he had been back (save once for Winry to call and check on _her_ automail). Russell had innocently suggested he help in the garden. They did need to harvest the potatoes, after all. And by absent-mindedly nodding to the request, Ed had secured himself a position as weeder, waterer, aerator, and general workhorse.

And he hated it. Hated the feel of the dirt on his fingers, hated the bugs that ate the plants he was expected to care for, and hated the bugs he was supposed to leave.

"Couldn't we just alchemize these in the lab?" he'd asked Russell one day. The younger boy had simply rolled his eyes.

This just wasn't Ed's forte. He hated the sun on the back of his neck, the wetness of mud on his knees, the weeding, and the damn..._gentleness_...of it all. Definitely not his thing. He was more blow-stuff-up-and-find-his-solution-amongst-the-rubble. He hated this _caring for things_ bit. Why couldn't they just clap their hands and - _poof_ - plant?

Ed smiled again. Perhaps the Tringhams did have a natural knack for the plant alchemy. They seemed to understand the idea of roots and branches and nourishment and life so thoroughly. They had nurtured the depleted Al, had brought his memories back from withering behind the gate. They happily remained as a home base for the wandering brothers, letting them reach their branches wherever they needed. The Tringhams seemed to understand that the concept of "home" was a bit foreign to the Elrics and respected their need to explore.

When Ed slipped a hand onto Russell's knee, the younger boy frowned at him but didn't say anything and, almost grudgingly, slid his hand on top of Ed's. Russell returned his gaze to the book in front of him but Ed was content in knowing that he had discerned the buds of a smile growing at the corners of his companion's mouth.

When Ed leaned over to kiss Russell's cheek, he refrained from even the slightest hints of a frown and instead closed his eyes and leaned into Ed's lips. The younger brothers across the table giggled at each other, causing a smirk to slowly slide up Russell's unoccupied cheek. Ed slid a marker into Russell's book and closed it quietly.

"I'm bored," he said. "Let's go."

Russell smiled and shook his head. "The attention span of a gnat."

Instead of raging about being called a gnat so small that spiders wouldn't even expend the effort to eat him, Ed simply helped his lover out of his chair and cradled both of their books in his automail arm.


	2. Chapter 2

When Ed had told Russell to take him home from the library, leaving the two younger boys absorbed in their books, he'd had visions of some rare alone time between the two older alchemists. With any luck, some naked, rolling-around-on-the-laboratory-floor alone time.

Instead, Edward found himself kneeling and sweating.

"Are we almost finished, Russ?" he whined.

Russell rolled his eyes and sighed. "As soon as you finish this row, we can go inside."

Ed groaned as he scraped a tissue sample off a leaf out in the experimental vegetable patch, not quite a substitute for the lovingly laid-out one back home in Risembol. He hated the scraping sound emitted by his automail when sand got caught in its joints.

Russell stepped over a row of leafy greens to come up behind his lover, squatting with his long thighs pressing onto either side of Ed's hips, wrapped his arms around the small torso, and nuzzled his nose into the long blonde hair.

"You're doing really good. I appreciate your help, Ed."

"Yeah, yeah," Ed growled, trying to sound defiant, but the softness rubbing at the edges of his voice betrayed his contentedness. "You're slowing me down."

Russell felt a grin spread across his face. Edward always put on a good show that could fool most people, but it never fooled his lover. Russell knew Ed better than almost anyone, aside from Al. He knew that Ed liked to think that they were such different creatures, and maybe they were in some ways, but Russell knew better. He knew from their first meetings together that their was more depth to their similarities than to their differences.

He slid one arm under Ed's knees, keeping the other cradling his back, and tugged the older boy up out of the soil. Ed squirmed and tossed and shrieked about being treated like a girl, but really, he put up less of a fight than Russell had been expecting.

"I still have to finish my row!"

"You were just complaining about it a minute ago. I'd think you'd be happy for a break," Russell said with a smirk.

Ed stilled and slipped his automail arm around Russell's neck. "Just what kind of break is this?" he asked with eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Why do you talk so damn much?"

Ed gave an annoyed grunt and relaxed his whole body, becoming dead weight in his lover's arms. Russell's legs buckled a little and he staggered. He frowned and bounced his knee off Ed's bottom, tensing the boy back up.

"Careful with that!" he said, using his free hand to rub his offended ass.

Once inside, Russell dropped his prize down onto the couch. Before he could properly stand up, he felt warm, soft lips on his own. The kiss was hard and urgent, a small tongue swiping between his lips, lapping at teeth, and he felt himself being pulled down on top of the long haired boy beneath him.

Russell grinned against his lover's lips. This was certainly one thing they had in common. He tangled his fingers in those long, blonde strands, feeling them cool, vining between his fingers. Edward smelled like earth and Russell liked that. He liked the moist dew that was already forming on Ed's skin. He liked the older boy's autumn-colored eyes. Ed was the feral, burgeoning outdoors and this was what drew Russell to him, leaving the younger alchemist begging for one more chance to _seesmelltaste _his lover.

This urgent, flickering passion he felt as Ed's mouth moved down his throat was something relatively new between them. It was another testament to the parallel, the caution with which they had approached each other. Even after Russell's uncharacteristically emotional response to Ed's sudden homecoming, the two had regarded each other tentatively, slowly warming to this growing feeling that had forced their eyes, hands, and mouths upon each other. Russell could feel something – it was not possible that it was Ed's hands – _something_ that would grab hold of his shirtfront and drag him toward his would-be lover. This _something_ would navigate a sleepy Russell to Edward's room at night, to the chair neighboring Edward's at dinner, to the very garden row that Edward was weeding in the early morning sun.

But that _something _was always cautious, careful, reserved. The kisses came slowly at first, guarded. _I don't want to be hurt again, Russ._ The fingers that would tendril into blonde hair moved with the deliberation of petals following sunshine across the sky. _I promise I won't hurt you._ Lips drank gently, roots shyly probing soil, finding a path to nourishing water, careful to not start into a betraying direction. _Don't stop, Russ._ And finally, bodies twined, vines on a trellis, around each other. _I need you._

And so, somehow, two boys who had known little of love, trust, or hope found someone with whom to stumble their way through these foreign emotions, reaching around searchingly for a place to sink their roots.

Edward's mouth was around Russell's fingers, his tongue gently lapping at the calloused fingertips, not recoiling from something Russell considered to be rather unattractive about himself. Callouses and visible scars weren't the only remnants of his troubled past. He still had the coughing fits that he supposed would linger for the rest of his life, a constant reminder of his sins in Xenotime.

Ed bore the visible price of his sins, too. His heavy, gangly automail, always pulling at his skin, lending an unevenness to his stride. A hand always hidden from view under a white glove. They were both sinners and while Edward's price had seemed much higher, who was to say which had sinned the greatest? Russell had sickened an entire town, killing how many? Ed had lost his limbs, but more importantly, he had offered up his younger brother's body as barter for a taboo. Edward would never regain his lost limbs. They would remain...somewhere else...to remind him of what he had done. Even after retrieving his brother's body, his sin would not be absolved entirely.

Ed paused in his undressing of his lover just long enough to glance over Russell's shoulder out the window. The younger alchemist knew he was scanning for any sight of approaching prying eyes, especially those of their easy-blushing younger brothers.

Being interrupted by beloved, shy, giggling siblings was one of the prices they had to pay for this relationship. A small price, but one of which they were constantly aware. And so, love-making was often forced into silence, slowness, and concealment. But, alone in the house on this evening, Ed let out a low growl as Russell's mouth tugged at a nipple and began to nibble its way down his rib cage.

He could see marigolds bloom wide in Ed's eyes as he tugged at those stubborn black pants. Pink flesh and glinting automail were revealed, goose bumps rising against cool evening air.

"You're beautiful, Ed."

The older boy blushed and turned his face away, burying his eyes in the hollow of Russell's neck. The younger boy curled an arm around Ed's back, holding him close. He knew his lover always shied away from his compliments and while he wished Ed would just smile for once and accept them for the truth they were, he understood the boy's reservation with these expressions of love.

And it was love. Russell felt it rooted deep in his stomach, felt it bud in his soul. He said it often, every morning, every night, at odd times in between, like when they were fighting over a particularly broken-in spot on the couch or when they were taking stem tissue samples and wiping sweat from their brows. And he knew that Ed felt it, even if he had never said it. The way he blushed and almost-but-not-quite averted his eyes at Russell's random assertions. "I could get used to this" was the closest Ed had ever come to saying it and Russell's heart had swelled and he had no other choice than to take the older boy in his arms and kiss his blushing cheeks into an even deeper fervor.

But he understood. He understood what Ed had meant with those vague words. He had understood the reservation to express his affection. Both boys knew what rejection was. Both had lost their father's to promises of alchemic glory, though Nash Tringham and Hohenheim Elric were very different men with very different goals. While Nash hadn't exactly been a great father, he was a good man. Hohenheim, Edward argued, had been neither. So much of Russell and Edward's personalities sprouted from these strangled relationships with their fathers. And Russell knew that Ed's rejection from his father transferred over into other areas of his life.

So Russell didn't push for Ed to say things that made him uncomfortable. He said "I love you" everyday to the older boy and had never been told to hush, he had made love to him most every night for the past year and had never been told to leave, he had lovingly existed with Ed for so long that he could not remember ever feeling any other way. It didn't matter if Ed ever said those words. They lent each other a cozy habitat of belonging that they had rarely felt before. And it felt ...

"That is so _good_, Russ," Ed moaned into his lover's shoulder as Russell stroked at the smaller boy's length and nuzzled his neck.

Edward had only recently taken to being so open about the things he liked to feel. He thoroughly reminded Russell of those bladderworts that he and Fletcher had been studying recently. These touchy little aquatic plants had small trapdoor bladders that opened to let water in, but were able to slam shut the doors at the precise instant that they had enough. Russell had heard that the trapdoors could shut in less than one-hundredth of a second and he grinned, knowing bladderworts had _nothing_ on his Edward. His lover could reject like no one else. Russell had felt that sting often in the beginning, himself. But he understood and his understanding of Edward's hurt made him crave his lover all the more.

And his craving touches, combined with soft encouragement and late-night discussions in a darkened living room with only a single oil lamp to cast shadows across pained faces, were slowly enough to pull Edward out of his dormancy, to bring to germination the kind, passionate, loving soul that seemed to have withered on the other side of the Gate. He'd achieved his life's work at the age of 17, finally returning Al's body and himself, at least physically if not emotionally, back to Amestris. And he had been tired, depleted.

Slowly, slowly he had been returned fully from Munich. His soul finally breached the threshold and he'd bloomed in Russell's arms.

Edward cried Russell's name as he came, shoulders shaking against a strong chest. The younger boy buried his face in nectar-sweet hair and kissed the top of Edward's head. Ed hadn't been the only one renewed by this assimilation of bodies and hearts.

Russell coiled himself around his lover, content to have him here for an afternoon before he left on another mission for the military. And he was happy, damn it, he was. He has happy that Ed could still traipse about the country, stretching his branches, soaking up the sun of another victory. Happy that he wouldn't remain at home, bouncing his knees as he sat in chair waiting for something interesting to happen.

Russell sighed and tugged his lover closer. Maybe this was where Ed saw their differences. The younger alchemist would never be the adventuring type. He would never be one to sow his wild oats about the countryside. Instead, he would remain at home, remain where Ed could always find him, remain here, planted for Ed. He would be the roots to Edwards branches, he would remain, Ed would stray.

Edward mumbled something sleepily as he was hoisted up from the couch, still wrapped in a blanket. He felt Russell carry him into their bedroom and sighed and smirked a smirk that would give Roy Mustang a run for his money as he was dropped upon a soft mattress.

"The samples can wait until tomorrow, beautiful."

Ed scowled, but his drowsy eyes were smiling. The last sun slipped from the horizon, leaving only shadows on Ed's sated face and Russell closed the door quietly behind him as he let his lover sleep.


End file.
